Terminal Velocity
by Thnx4theGum
Summary: A fluffy holiday fic involving our favorite non-couple. Includes references to "The Doctor in the Photo" so if you haven't seen it, you've just been warned. Rated T for the happy ending. ;
1. Up in The Air

**Author's Note: Okay, so after a day spent numb after everything went down in "The Doctor in the Photo" I decided I needed some fluff. Not that I didn't love the episode (because it was superb and the acting was flawless) but I'm a pansy when it comes to hard core angst. So... In "Doctor" Brennan says the vic was under the tree for eleven months from last November, that says to me that it's October in the Bones world. This is a Christmas fic so it's set two months after "Doctor." Okay, sit back, relax, and enjoy!**

**Gum :)**

**Terminal Velocity**

Chapter 1: Up In The Air

It was the end of another day. The end of another case. As they had always done, the partners sat at the Founding Fathers, nursing their drinks and exchanging small talk. From the door, a bell rang, ushering in a line of haggard-looking men dressed in fake red fur who collapsed around one of the far tables.

"Guess we know where Santa goes to unwind, eh?" Booth quipped with a small smile.

Brennan smiled back with a nod, "Parker might be disillusioned if he saw them, however."

"I think he knows," there was a touch of sorrow lacing Booth's voice. "I mean, he didn't say anything but," he shrugged, leaving the thought to hang between them.

This time her smile was sympathetic and she laid a hand on his forearm, "I'm sorry. For you, I mean. I know how much you enjoyed fantasizing about Santa with him."

Booth choked on his lager slightly but nodded his thanks and said with a half-smile, "Kids have to grow up sometime."

There was a contemplative silence and in Brennan's mind she could see Parker's progression from early childhood to the cusp of adolescence. He, indeed, had grown up over the last six years and while the scientist in her acknowledged that such change was natural given the passage of time, she could also understand why her partner might not quite be ready for his son to lose the innocence of childhood.

"So you're going skiing with him this year?" she asked, hoping the reminder would help lighten his mood.

"Yep," the smile broadened and she felt warm inside. "Rebecca had already made plans before I came back early, but she invited me to tag along after the case wrapped. Parker's gonna teach me how to snowboard, so we'll see how that goes."

"I enjoy skiing," she remarked, "though I find I lack the proper balance techniques necessary to properly steer a snowboard."

They both chuckled at the thought and sat in companionable silence until their drinks were finished. Brennan didn't have the courage to ask how he was doing in regards to his recent breakup with Hannah, and Booth had no inclination to share. They'd parted ways amicably enough and after a short period of discomfort Booth and Brennan were slowly finding their equilibrium again as a team; though each had doubts that they could ever regain the closeness they'd shared given all that had passed between them.

"Well," Booth stretched, standing up, "I should get home and get some sleep. Six is gonna come way too early in the morning. When does your flight to Bora Bora leave?"

She rolled her eyes, "Minnesota is not an island, it's-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he scoffed lightly, cutting her off as he helped her into her jacket without. "And I think it's great, you know, you going to spend Christmas with your family. It's really great, Bones. Though you'd probably be warmer in Bora Bora."

She nodded vigorously as she slipped her hands into her gloves and tightened her scarf. The December wind bit into her exposed cheeks as they stepped from the doorway onto the sidewalk. Beside her, Booth pulled up the collar on his coat, shuddering as another burst of cold air whipped down on them. She scurried to her car, Booth close behind.

"Call me when you get there," he blurted out when they stopped beside the car.

"You realize that air travel is safer than a motor vehicle?" she shook her head.

He reached an arm across her to prevent her from opening the door after she unlocked it, "Bones, just humor me, okay?"

"If I say yes will you let me in my car?" she tapped an impatient foot, a shiver going through her.

"Fine," he relented. "Guess, I'll see you after New Years?" he stalled once again, angling his body in front of her to block out the wind.

"January second," she confirmed. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she looked up at him, smiling as he opened her car door and nudged her in, "Tell Parker, Merry Christmas from me."

"I will," he assured her, still hovering over the door. A million thoughts flooded his brain, but none made it out save a quick, "Merry Christmas, Bones," just before she reached over to gently shut the door.

She paused just before it latched and opened it enough to call out, "Merry Christmas, Booth," before starting the engine and disappearing into the night.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Brennan's flight took off bright and early the next morning into the crisp, blue skies, and she spent the first half of it engrossed in a novel she'd been saving for just such an occasion. Reading for leisure was something she enjoyed, but rarely something for which she made the time. Between her responsibilities at the Jeffersonian, her teaching schedule, the cases she worked on with Booth, not to mention her own novels that she wrote, her free time was at a premium.

She emerged from it with a jolt, bouncing the book out of her loose grip and one her lap. One look at the gray sky to her right was explanation enough as the snow whipped and swirled outside of the aircraft. Despite the warmth of the first class cabin she felt a chill go down her spine.

"Excuse me," she stopped the flight attendant who was passing by. "Do you know if our arrival time has been delayed by the storm?"

"Oh yeah," the woman snapped her gum loudly, "this is a big one. Couldn't do anything but head right through it. Might have to land if it doesn't clear up soon." She looked around furtively, before leaning down and whispering to Brennan, "We're close to zero visibility."

"I see," Brennan replied in a similarly quiet voice.

The woman's head bobbed up and down and she looked left and right once again before producing a small paperback from her apron. Suddenly Brennan realized why the woman had confided in her and when the request for her signature came, she pasted a smile on her face and obliged. Tracie, "with an 'ie'" proceeded to open it to a blank page and thank her profusely.

A chime sounded softly in the cabin, recalling the flight attendants to their stations and the woman took her newly signed book and beat a hasty retreat. Not long afterward, the "fasten seat belt" light was turned on, and only a few minutes later the announcement came that due to the storm they would be landing in Chicago's O'Hare airport within the hour. Brennan suspected that fuel concerns were also a factor.

Around her, people began opening their phones and calling loved ones to let them know about the change in plans and it occurred to her that she should do the same. One of her aunts answered the phone, unsurprised at the news as the cold front was wide-spread. Brennan informed her of the plans, promising to keep her apprised of the situation as she learned more. The aunt was assuring her that was no problem when the flight attendants asked them to shut down all electronic devices and prepare for landing.

The plane bounced and jostled in long, lazy circles, drawing nearer to the ground with each pass. A low groan sounded as the landing gear was unfurled and once again the plane shuddered in the wind. Four more times the plane went up, then down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Now they were descending at a much faster rate and as Brennan watched the ground race up toward them her mind immediately went to Booth, hoping he wouldn't be too upset with her for not calling.


	2. Casablanca

Chapter 2: Casablanca

Once they were on the ground it took some time to offload the passengers and it was even longer before Brennan made her way to the front of the line at the Customer Service desk.

"I'm sorry," the man's head wagged wearily. "This storm has half the country shut down and there's another wave coming our way tomorrow."

"Surely you have accommodations for first-class passengers available?" she insisted, setting her platinum membership card for that airline down on the counter between them.

"It's not safe for the shuttle buses to make their hotel runs," he repeated his practiced speech, "and all of the airport's rooms are currently booked. There are food vouchers available and you'll have access to the first-class lounge, of course."

It was clear she wasn't going to get anything else, so she grudgingly accepted the vouchers, along with a map to the lounge. Weary and hungry from the long day, she turned around and made her way down the concourse as quickly as she could.

"Oof!" she collided with something solid as she came around a corner, sending her to the cool tile floor with a thud.

"I'm so sorry-" she began, accepting the hand that reached down to assist her, then looked startled as a face came into view. "Booth?"

"Bones?" his hands were under her armpits, hauling her to her feet, then wrapping her in a quick, tight hug.

"Was your flight waylaid here as well?" she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at the chance meeting.

"Nah," he waved a hand. "I had a layover here originally and my next flight is canceled until who knows when. Wait, why are _you_ here? I thought you had a direct flight?"

"I did," she nodded, "but there were concerns about visibility so we made an emergency landing."

For a long moment, neither one of them knew quite what to say. Around them, the airport buzzed with the stagnant cacophony of people who should've been in transition but were going nowhere. Mothers paced back and forth with their squalling infants, trying to settle them, while younger children raced in and out of baggage that had been abandoned to the floor. Business men with loosened ties huddled over their laptops and PDAs, trying to act as if their plans hadn't been fully disrupted; teenagers stared with glazed eyes as their heads moved to music no one else could hear. Highly generic Christmas music blared through scratchy airport speakers as a father wearing a military uniform consoled whoever he was on the phone with that he would be home as soon as he could.

Someone slammed into Brennan, knocking her into Booth for a second time that night and jarring her from her reverie.

"Hey!" Booth called after the man whose back was already fading into the crowd.

She put a hand on his to stay any overreaction, "I'm fine."

He met hers eyes, his own still dark with annoyance as he tried to smile. They flashed with concern as they flicked down to her hand, noticing the thin line of blood that was forming.

"You're hurt."

She shivered at his gentle touch and shook her head, "It's fine. Just a scratch."

But Booth was already shouldering her bag along with his own and steering her away from the main throughway. Every chair in sight was occupied, but he managed to spot an empty corner where he quickly stowed their carry-on bags and refocused on her.

"Here," he lowered himself to the floor to join her, laying her hand in his lap as he unscrewed his water bottle and tipped a small amount into his handkerchief. She sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed it against the open flesh. "Just be glad this isn't alcohol," he spoke, trying to distract her as he gently wound the handkerchief around her hand and secured it.

"In Maluku I got used to having superficial abrasions," she shrugged. Gesturing with her free hand toward her bag she added, "I do have a small first aid kit with me."

"Of course you do," he chuckled, leaning back against the wall momentarily. "Want me to get you a band-aid, Bones?"

"This should suffice for now," she shook her head, inspecting his handiwork. "The design of these suggests it's old," she observed.

"Yep," he now chugged water from the same bottle he'd just opened. "Gram made 'em for Pops before he went off to war and when I joined up, Pops gave them to me."

A smile played on her lips as she envisioned a young Seeley Booth full of zeal and eager to serve his country. She wondered if his shoulders and chest had had the breadth they did now. If he had looked as good then in fatigues.

"Earth to Bones," a hand waved in her face, drawing her back to the present. Booth looked slightly concerned, but smiled when she finally looked up, "_You_ zoned out on me."

"I did not!" the response was immediate.

"Uh huh," he sounded unconvinced. "So you heard everything I just said?"

"Maybe not everything," she admitted, but was quick to point out, "it _is_ rather noisy in here, however." Her eyes avoided his and she looked down at her hands once more. "They suit you," she told him.

"Come again?"

"The handkerchiefs," she said as if he should know what she was talking about. "They fit well with your persona."

"My persona?" an eyebrow climbed up his forehead.

"Yes," she nodded, "along with the three piece suits, tailored shirts, your well-coiffed hair-"

"I don't like looking like a slob," he cut her off and she had to stifle a giggle as he ran a hand unconsciously through his hair.

"That's quite evident, though you really should consider wearing some sort of cologne," she told him. "Perhaps one that utilizes your body's natural pheromones?"

Trying to tell me that I stink, Bones?" he teased.

A teasing response was on her lips when they were interrupted by a group of restless children who had apparently decided to start a game of tag up and down the concourse. The oldest was no more than Parker's age and the youngest no more than two, and the pair watched, bemused, as the game progressed. The older ones, of course, had the advantage of greater reasoning ability, but the younger ones were able to slip in and out of small spaces and their unpredictable behavior often worked in their favor.

"Maybe we should find a safer place," Booth suggested when one of the boys came perilously close to crashing into them.

"Oh, yes!" Brennan perked up, suddenly remembering her original destination. "We can go to the first class lounge – Booth," she protested as he took her bags along with his own, "I'm more than capable of doing that."

"Humor me," he flashed her a charm smile.

"You should be hysterical by now," she muttered, following him nonetheless.

"What's that, Bones?" he asked over he shoulder.

"I was to humor you by informing you that I'd arrived safely, now I'm to humor you by allowing you to carry my bags," she half-grumbled. "You should be hysterical for all the humoring I'm doing."

"Ah, but you never _did_ call me, did you, Bones?" He smirked at her non verbal reply, "Yeah, that's what I thought. So really, you owe me."

"I do?" she glared lightly at the triumph on his face. "What do I owe you?"

Before he could answer, his stomach did for him, emitting a low, long rumble.

"Hmm, Bones," his brown eyes filled with mirth, "how about lunch?"


	3. Catch 22

Chapter 3: Catch 22

To Booth the airport seemed to go on forever as they made their way to the first class lounge that Brennan insisted was the best. Nothing but fiercely blowing snow was visible through the miles of windows looking out onto the tarmac and Booth shivered at the thought. Occasionally, the wind would die down and he'd peer through the falling snow looking for the planes, but thus far he'd only seen white. Years of experience left him bracing himself for a long wait and uncomfortable sleep for at least one night, maybe even two depending on when the storm calmed down.

While the storm raged outside, inside it felt like all of Chicago had descended on the airport and then some. Gate areas like the one they'd met in were stuffed to the gills and the people who hadn't staked out a spot there were strewn along the long corridors. Not for the first time Booth was glad Parker had flown with Becca a few days before, not envying the throng of parents attempting in vain to rein in their restless kids.

"Here," Brennan gestured at an opening off to the side.

She led the way in and as soon as the sliding doors closed behind them it was as if they'd stepped into another world. Outside of the quiet strains of the "Nutcracker Suite" playing in the background, there was no noise to speak of. A cheerful woman at the front desk greeted them and took the various cards Brennan retrieved from her pocket.

"And you, Sir?" the woman asked, her smile wide, eyes just slightly flirtatious as her blond hair swayed from side to side.

Suddenly Brennan was at his side. "He's with me," she spoke before he could answer. "My partner, Seeley Booth."

The girl was no slouch and immediately was all business. She took Booth's ID, issued him a visitor's pass, and instructed him not to wander off without Brennan. That, Booth mused quietly to himself, was not going to be a problem as his partner had effectively attached herself to his side and was currently dragging him into an elevator. It took everything in him not to laugh or react when the doors opened to the elevator car and revealed several very attractive, sharply dressed, business women, all of whom took stock of him and smiled their approval; some more overtly than others.

Beside him Brennan went stiff at first, then looped her arm inside of his possessively. As much as he wanted to tease her, he could see a few of the women trying to tell just what his connection to Brennan was, and took pity on her.

He turned his body so that his full attention was focused on her and asked just loudly enough to be overheard in the tight quarters, "How's your hand doing, Baby?"

If she noted the different endearment she said nothing, but nodded, a small smile on her lips as she quietly thanked him. Just in case any of the other women still harbored any doubts, he slung his arm around Brennan's shoulder as he had a thousand times before in the past and almost instinctively she leaned into him, not separating until the doors opened to the floor she wanted.

His mouth nearly fell open at the opulence of the room. Rich, deep leather chairs were scattered throughout a wide open sitting room and rounded couches were tucked into the corners beside low coffee tables and warm lamps, creating an intimate feel. Off to the one side there was a circular bar, and according to the marquee there were office spaces, conference rooms, and a kid's area available as well.

"It's not too full," he commented, noting that there were enough people, but not nearly as many as they'd seen in other parts of the terminal.

"Maximum capacity is 700," she shrugged one shoulder, "though you'd barely notice it given there's over 3,000 square feet in this facility."

Booth let out a low whistle, "Wow."

"I've been stranded here once before," she told him. "Once official business hours are over, cots will be made available as well as blankets and pillows. We should be able to wait out the storm in relative comfort."

"Is there food?" he looked around, assuming there had to be something somewhere.

Her nose crinkled slightly, "It's not what it should be, but the lounge that offers the more superior food through this airline is much smaller."

"Figures," he smirked, then turned to her. "So, um, what do we do now?"

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

An hour later they'd had their fill of small snack foods that were provided, along with sandwiches that were slightly stale.

"Want anything else to drink?" he asked, gathering up the trash to throw away.

She handed him her trash and nodded, "Coffee's fine. We can go to the bar later if you'd like."

"You get free drinks too?" he supposed he shouldn't be surprised.

"A few," she nodded, "but they have a wide selection of drinks for sale as well and I'm paying."

He shook his head as he stood up, "You paid for lunch, Bones, and you really didn't _have_ to do that."

"I want to," she told him, a note of finality in her voice.

As he walked across the room to dispose of the trash she leaned back in her chair and sighed quietly, wondering how to address the money issue without offending Booth's sensibilities. He'd gone to claim one of the corner couches for them while she'd purchased the food and she doubted he knew how much she'd had to pay for what little they'd eaten. It was of no concern to her but it would be for him and she didn't want that.

"Thinking deep thoughts, Bones?" his voice pulled her away from her internal debate and she looked up, shaking her head.

She opened her mouth to give a witty reply but froze, noting yet another attractive blond woman who was ogling her partner. Not that Brennan could blame her too much. While certainly not the most well-dressed man in the room, Booth was easily the most attractive. He'd shed his leather coat along with the sweater he'd been wearing almost as soon as they'd sat down to lunch and as he joined her once more, Brennan couldn't help but notice the way his biceps rippled underneath his black, Philadelphia Flyers' t-shirt.

"Bones," his voice was softer now and she jumped at his light touch.

"I think that woman wants to have sex with you," she blurted out.

"Bones," he hissed as heads turned throughout the room and the woman made a sudden bee-line for the bar.

"It's true," she insisted.

"Bones," he was pleading with her.

"More than likely it's a good match," she babbled on, try desperately to divorce herself from the jealousy she'd felt since they'd entered the lounge. "She's well put-together and her clothes suggest she's a successful, professional woman-"

"Bones," now his voice was more stern as he tried to cut her off.

"No, Booth," she shook her head. "You should go get that woman's contact information. I don't mind."

"Well maybe I do."

"You shouldn't. You're single. She's single."

"I'm not interested in her, Bones."

It would've been easier for her if his voice hadn't been tender, his eyes not full of compassion with a pointed look that told her exactly who he _was_ interested in. But that just made her more flustered because for as much as she'd changed since that cold October night in the rain, she was still unsure about some things. Still angry about others.

"Well perhaps you should find some way to save her life, Booth," the anger won out and she stood up, utterly composed despite her ire. "Isn't that the way _you_ fall in love now?"


	4. The Dam Busters

Chapter 4: The Dam Busters

Her boots clicked against the mahogany floor, carrying her as far from Booth as they could and suddenly the 3,000 square foot facility felt far too confining. Her internal monologue swung back and forth from listing each and every one of his faults and mistakes over the years, to regret and embarrassment at her own behavior. Jealousy wasn't an emotion she succumbed to regularly, but on occasion it flared up and today she'd lashed out.

She came to a halt at a picture window and crossed her arms, staring at the outside world. In some ways she felt as helpless and out of control as the snowflakes that tumbled through the air in the darkness. Dealing with her emotions had never been a strong point and it was taking every shred of self-control she had left not to shift back into her old habit of compartmentalizing everything.

"Quite the storm, eh?" came her partner's soft, steady voice.

To his credit, he didn't come too close, but he wasn't too far away either and when she turned to look she found him gazing out at the storm, his hand fiddling with something in his pocket. She wanted to tell him to go away – that she was better off alone – but only the word "Booth" left her lips before she lapsed into silence.

"I'd give you time and space," he told her with a surprising lack of irritation in his tone, but I can't." He tapped his visitor's badge and found her eyes, "Unless you want me to, you know, leave."

It came out halfway between a question and a statement, but clearly left the decision up to her. That thought made her feel almost more frightened and vulnerable than she'd been before, because the last time she had tried to spare them both pain she'd ended up inflicting it. Booth stood stalwart for several minutes as the silence stretched between them.

From the corner of her eye she watched his shoulders sag ever so slightly, then he turned to walk away.

"Stay," the single word spoke volumes into the stillness.

**B&B&B&B&B&B**

His first instinct when she issued her verbal smack-down had been to strike back, but by the time he went to, she was halfway out the door of the common room and heading for parts unknown. As he looked around, the others in the room suddenly became fascinated with anything but him and he let his frustration bleed out in a sigh.

So much good had happened today he'd almost forgotten how strained and awkward things had been between them since he'd driven her back home in the rain two months ago. Not that they'd stopped working together, but they hadn't gone out of their way to spend a lot of time together and the times they were together always held an undertone of awkwardness.

One of the lounge employees started eying Booth and he realized he had a choice: head back out and slum it with the rest of the airport, or walk into the lion's den. He picked up her laptop bag so that it wasn't sitting unattended and stood, heading in the direction he'd last seen her. After he'd gotten close enough it wasn't hard to hear her footfalls echoing in the deserted corridor.

Every step brought him closer to her and increased his resolve. He would stand his ground. He would build his case. She would see that none of this had to happen if she had just opened herself up to him to begin with. He had no second thoughts about his refusal to dump Hannah the night Brennan had decided to live without any regrets and the more he built the argument in his mind, the more convinced he was that he had done the right thing by both women as best he could.

Booth turned the corner, no longer hearing her footsteps and stopped short. She had wandered into one of the conference rooms and was standing at the picture window, arms clenched tightly together, looking for all the world like a frightened kitten. Concern welled up in him, magnifying as he caught a glimpse of her troubled face and realized she was more upset with herself than with him. Her vulnerability had always been his weakness and he didn't dare risk chewing her out and sending her further into her shell.

He made an innocuous comment about the weather, making sure to avoid eye contact with her until the right moment. When he finally did, the raw emotion shining in her eyes was almost enough to make him run over and gather her in his arms as he'd done so many times before. But she was the one who'd walked away this time, he reminded himself, so he made it clear that she needed to be the one to decide whether he should stay or go.

The seconds ticked off on the wall clock in the deafening silence that ensued. His eyes strained for some sign of hope but she remained as still as a statue, her gaze fixed on the falling snow. Stifling another sigh, Booth let himself admit that her silence was his answer and it was high time he left.

"Stay."

It was more plea than demand and his head whipped around to find her, needing confirmation that his ears weren't playing tricks on him. She nodded as soon as their eyes met and he nodded in return, setting her laptop bag down on the conference table as he took a step closer to her.

"Are you angry with me?" she wanted to know as she scrutinized his face.

"A little," he admitted.

"I was wrong," she admitted, averting her eyes for the briefest of seconds. "I know your love for Hannah wasn't that superficial."

"It wasn't," he agreed, then closed the gap between them. "But she and I both knew it wasn't enough."

She frowned, tilting her head to one side, "I don't know what that means."

"Yeah you do, Bones," his voice was husky with emotion.

The look on her face was confirmation enough, but his eyes widened in shock as she closed the last of the gap between them, placed her hands on his arms, and kissed him. It wasn't a kiss on the cheek because she was thankful; or one to satisfy the terms of an agreement she'd struck; or a rained-soaked one that tasted like tequila mixed with lust. His tongue wrapped around hers for the third time in six years as his hands spanned her waist and while part of him braced for her to push him away again, the other half felt as if he was finally coming home.

"Booth," she breathed into his lips.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"We should stop soon."

"Eh," he grunted noncommittally.

"Someone could walk in," she pointed out as his lips left hers and traveled down her neck in a way he'd only dreamed about before now.

The soft, smooth skin tasted even better than he'd thought and he let out a soft groan. That, apparently, was all the encouragement she needed as she threw her head back, giving him further access to her and at the same time, pressing herself against him and fisting his shirt. She didn't let him feast long before her hands were in his hair, coaxing him up to where she could kiss him again. He didn't complain.

He had just backed her up against the table when the light snapped on, making them jump apart like guilty teenagers. A stern, stiff-lipped airline employee was glaring at them, reminding Booth of the nuns from school and Brennan scooped up her laptop as the pair beat a hasty retreat into the corridor and back toward the common room. Three-quarters of the way back he stopped and burst into a fit of laughter, leaning up against the wall for support.

Brennan stared at him, then her lips curved up and she let out a giggle. Laughter echoed in the hallway and was interrupted only by the ringing of Booth's cell phone.

"Hey, Becca," he answered, slightly out of breath. "No, no, I'm fine." There was a pause before he answered, "Yeah, looks like I'm not gonna make it in time for Christmas." She asked a question, which he almost didn't hear because his partner was distracting him. "Sure," he told her, "I'll talk to Parker if he wants."

Brennan chucked a thumb toward the common room and Booth nodded a silent promise to catch up with her. He watched her go, the aftertaste of their exchange still tingling on his lips, and thought that this was turning out to be a pretty good Christmas break after all.


	5. The Right Stuff

Chapter 5: The Right Stuff

Booth and Parker said their goodbyes and he headed back toward the common room area. It was slightly more crowded than it had been when they'd left, but not nearly as much as the public sections of the airport they'd seen. His partner, meanwhile, had stretched out on the couch and was busy tapping away at her laptop.

"Working on the great American novel, there, Bones?" he quipped lightly, sitting on the armrest beside her.

"I have some correspondence to catch up on," she said, turning her head to face him and talking without pausing her fingers. "It shouldn't take me long, but it is something that needs to be done."

The keys clicked under her nimble fingers as she looked at him, waiting for a response and he shook his head, "That's creepy, you know?"

"That I can multi-task?" a single brow rose to her hairline. "Because it's not that uncommon of a trait, Booth. Secretaries and stenographers do it all the time."

"Look, I'll – ah – just let you do your thing and I'll entertain myself, okay," he asked, scooting off the arm of the couch and coming around to the other side of it.

At that her fingers stopped and she tilted her chin, "You're going to," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "masturbate?"

"What?" he squeaked, face flaming as he sat down hurriedly and shushed her. "No!"

"I wouldn't blame you," he voice was still low, eyes guileless. "That kiss was quite arousing and-"

"I'm fine," he cut her off, throwing in a smile to soften the reprimand. "I'm fine, Bones. Honest." He wasn't sure if he'd hurt her feelings so he threw in for good measure, "It was a great kiss. I loved it."

Whatever reaction he was expecting from her it wasn't the shy smile that crept up her lips, or the sudden and quick jerk of her eyes, that suddenly wanted to do nothing but stare at the screen in front of her. The full impact of his words settled on both of them and for several very long seconds he was tempted to qualify them. In the end, he said nothing.

He leaned forward to grab a magazine from the coffee table in front of them about the same time her fingers started typing again. The silence between them was uncomfortable at first, but as time went on it eased, until their comfort level approached normal. It was only a half an hour later as Brennan leaned forward to move her laptop to the table, brushing his arm lightly in the process, he realized how close together they'd migrated.

"Crick in your neck?" he asked as she rolled her head from one shoulder to the next.

"In the vernacular, yes," she nodded just the slightest bit and winced.

"Here," he invited her, patting the space right beside him. She looked warily at him and he shook his head with a lopsided grin, "I'm not gonna bite, Bones, just scoot back."

Reluctantly she did, her whole body tensing when the flats of his hands came to rest at the base of her neck. He pressed down gently, working in slow, small circles at the knots he encountered. The longer he rubbed, the more relaxed she became.

"See," he said, "it feels good to relax, doesn't it?"

"I relax," she argued, shifting in her seat to give him better access to her.

"You work twelve hours days, including most weekends," countered Booth lightly. "And most holidays you go off and do work too."

"My skills are in high demand," she defended herself. "And if you'll recall, the reason I'm here in the first place is because I chose to spend this holiday season with my family."

"You still work too hard," he told her. "How long were you at the office Thursday night?"

She didn't answer right away.

"Bones?"

She still said nothing and now he was more curious than anything, "How late, Bones?"

"Late enough," she hedged, suddenly squirming under his touch.

He dropped his hands and gently turned her around to face him, "If I called Cam wouldn't she agree?"

"What does it matter?" she asked all of a sudden. "We solved the case didn't we?"

"And now you're exhausted and stressed out," he wasn't mean, but he wanted to make a point. "You shouldn't push yourself so hard, Bones. Cam doesn't expect you to. I don't expect you to."

"I didn't come to be the best in my field by living up to people's low expectations," she reminded him. "We are the last line of hope these people will most likely have to discovering the truth of what happened to them. The last chance for justice to be served on the people who killed them. They deserve nothing less than our best, Booth."

"Hey," he brushed a quick thumb across her cheek, "I get that, Bones. I do. I agree 110 percent," he winked at her as her mouth opened to protest. "One of the best things about you is that you don't accept the word 'impossible' and you don't give up. But I don't want to see you burn yourself out because you pushed too hard and didn't take care of yourself."

She nodded slightly, stifling a yawn and he tugged back on her shoulders gently as he urged her, "Just rest for a little."

"It's the middle of the day," she protested.

"Are you going anywhere?" he sat back in the corner of the couch, keeping eye contact until she shook her head. "Exactly, so you just lay down and get some sleep while you can."

He watched her eyes scan the room and nearly cheered when he saw several others sleeping throughout the room. Reluctantly, she laid her head down on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

She was so tired she didn't remember falling asleep and as consciousness started to return she had to think for a minute before she realized what was going on. She was in an airport, on Christmas Eve, with Booth. A soft snoring sound emanated from the sternum just below her ear and she smiled. At some point he'd fallen asleep as well and his arm no longer rested along the top of the couch but held her close to him.

His scent permeated the air she breathed in, reminding her of the various times she'd encountered it at such close range: at an ER in New Orleans; in McVicar's barn; standing over a pool of blood in her apartment; in the shadow of the Washington Monument after being separated for so long. There had been other times too, of course, and over the years she'd cataloged them along with everything else "Boothy" in her mind. His likes, dislikes, and medical history were among the things she kept track of because she cared about him. Because she loved him.

He stirred in his sleep, loosening his grip on her, and she slipped out of his arms. Standing up she stretched and looked around. There were plenty of sleeping people scattered throughout the room, some slumped over their laptops, others curled up under suit jackets and long trench coats. Booth was still sound asleep and she smiled, unable to resist pressing a soft kiss to his temple before stepping away as quietly as she could.

She needn't have worried because he was still in the same position when she returned some time later, though his mouth was now closed so the snoring had stopped. The coffee table they'd sequestered was littered with their things and she set to work clearing it off, working around Booth's outstretched legs as she did so. His nose twitched when she began laying the food out.

"Smells good," he yawned, sitting up and pulling his striped feet off of the table. "Mmm, Bones, you got Chinese?"

She nodded proudly, offering him a pair of chopsticks, "There are several establishments in the main concourse, though their selection was limited."

"I don't care," Booth grabbed hungrily at a container and began dumping it onto the plate she gave him. "This smells ten times better than that crap we got at lunch!"

She laughed, but couldn't argue. Steam wafted up from the food and while it wasn't anywhere near the caliber of Wong Fu's, it was good and felt satisfying after their meager lunch. Words were scarce between them as the cartons were passed back and forth, but there was something familiar and comfortable about the silence, as if they were preforming a dance that they'd long-since perfected. Even the clean-up was preformed with practiced ease.

"That was awesome, Bones," he smiled at her as they settled back on the couch. "Thanks."

"I was given plenty of food vouchers," she waved him off. Reaching down beside her she drew up one last bag and handed it to him with a smile that matched his, "Here."

He eyed her closely but her face gave nothing away as he accepted the bag and peeked in. A wide grin exploded on Brennan's face when Booth exclaimed, "You're the best, Bones!"

Two small boxes slid out into his lap and he quickly picked up one of them and opened it, making a show of inhaling deeply as he did so. His eyes closed as his lips got their first taste of flaky pastry and baked apples and cinnamon.

"Nobody does these like Mickey D's," he declared through a mouthful of pie. "Want some?"

She shook her head at the proffered treat, holding up her other hand to show the brownie she'd gotten for herself, "I still don't like my fruit cooked."

"I still do," he winked. "You should really give it a try sometime. Maybe your tastes have changed."

"Tastes don't change," she told him.

"Sure they do," he insisted. "Like I used to hate cooked veggies when I was a kid but now I don't mind them."

"Because you slather them with butter and salt," she pointed out.

"And oatmeal," he went on, ignoring her. "Pops couldn't get me near the stuff."

"You add brown sugar to it now," she rolled her eyes. "To the degree where its nutritional effectiveness is questionable."

"Compromise is the name of the game," he told her, leaning back into the couch and opening the second box.

"I'm not good at compromise," she frowned, well aware that they were no longer talking about food preferences. "I'm rigid and controlling. People find that off-putting."

"Then they haven't taken the time to get to know you," his voice was quietly earnest.

She fiddled with the napkin on her lap before admitting, "I'm emotionally distant."

"No," he captured her hands in his, shaking his head forcefully. "You care, Bones. Sometimes you care too much for your own good, in fact."

"I don't know what that means," she said, her voice small.

"It's what makes you stay so late at work and demand so much of your people," he soothed. "It makes you extend friendship to a stranger and save her life though you have every reason not to. It gave you the courage to put everything on the line and the goodness to expect nothing in return."

"My timing was wrong," she shrugged, having come to terms with that months before. "I missed my moment."

"Mine wasn't much better," he admitted ruefully, "and aren't you the one who's always telling us nothing in the universe happens just once? That we're always evolving?"

"It's true," she whispered.

Their faces had been drawing steadily closer to one another as they'd talked and she could see the depths of his feelings in the set of his jaw and the deep browns of his eyes. For the first time since they'd stood in the doorway of the pool hall in the pouring rain she allowed herself to meet his gaze and accept the emotions she saw there. Before either one of them could lose their nerve she impulsively closed the gap, her lips falling on his for the second time in twenty-four hours.

Hands framed her face, roving to her shoulders, then pulling her as close as their seating arrangement would allow. She had just lifted her hands to reach out to him when there was a shudder within the building and they were plunged into darkness.


	6. A Wing and A Prayer

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas Eve! This year's Eve/Day miracle is that I finished. Yep, this is the last chapter. But there are over 2800 words to savor before we're done. I won't be on much this next week because of my family here but I wanted to say a word to you, part of my online family. Thank you to my faithful reviewers who follow me from fic to fic and those just joining me: your words are all the gold I'll ever need no matter how small the comment. I look forward to sharing new fic with you all in the New Year, including the sequels to "Vanishing Point" and "Behind Blue Eyes" as promised. **

**Merry Christmas!**

**Gum :) **

Chapter 6: A Wing and A Prayer

_For Mary, who helps keep my Booth "Boothy" whether she realizes it or not, and PJ, who is my silent(or not so silent) partner in crime. Ah, my sisters, may you never run out of words!_

"The universe hates me," Booth groaned, pulling back only slightly as he tried to orient himself in the darkness.

"I highly doubt that," came the precise response from beside him. "Brownouts and power failures are fairly common in such extreme weather conditions. Do you have your phone on you?"

"Yeah, why- HEY!" he yelped as Brennan began her search. "Um, Bones, that's not my phone. What do you need it for anyway?"

"Stop being such a drama king, Booth," he could hear her eyes rolling. "Phones are an excellent light source."

As if to prove her point, small lights began winking on throughout the room as people found their phones and opened them.

"It's 'drama queen,' Bones," Booth groused, "and I'm pretty sure the TSA guys weren't as thorough as you're being."

"Got it!" she crowed, turning it on and revealing her familiar smile. "I was well aware of the proper saying, by the way. I just felt given your adverseness to speculations that your actions are more feminine in nature the change in gender would be appreciated."

"Thanks," he muttered. "I think."

"You're welcome," her bright smile might've been enough to pull him out of his funk had she not followed it with a frown. "Why didn't you simply submit to the x-ray?"

"Huh?" his brain fumbled to switch gears. "Oh, well, you know, Bones, I just don't want anything to get, er, damaged."

"The radiation is negligible and no more or less than you'd be exposed to on a normal flight," she shrugged. "Rumors of testicular and other types of cancers occurring as a result are unfounded."

Booth leaned back against the couch stifling a groan and trying to convince his nether regions they needed to settle down before she caught on to the effect her earlier groping had caused when combined with the kiss they'd been sharing when the lights went out.

"Booth," she turned to face him, the lines of concern deepened by the eerie glow of the phone's light, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

She shifted on the couch, turning her whole body sideways toward him before speaking, "In my experience when people claim that they are 'fine' they rarely are."

"You've been hanging out with Sweets too much," he grumbled.

"And you're acting like a sexually frustrated adolescent," she told him matter-of-factly.

The light on the phone dimmed, then went out, surrounding them once again in relative darkness. An announcement from the front of the room was made, informing them that the power was out and the back-up generators were off-line and currently buried in snow. Emergency candles, bottles of water, and small bags of snack foods were issued systematically by the staff. They had already procured cots for the night but due to the sheer volume of people who were trapped at the airport, priority would be given first to the elderly and those with small children.

Brennan excused herself from his side and he sat in the dark, thoroughly disgruntled by the whole situation. He should be in Vancouver by now, sitting by a roaring fire with Parker, not having to muddle through whatever was going on between him and his partner. Not that kissing her wasn't great – it always was – but so far he had no indication that this was going end any better than the last time he'd opened himself up to her and he wasn't sure he could survive that again. Obviously, she wanted nothing to do with him right now and he resigned himself to waiting in the dark until she came back.

The scraping of the coffee table against the carpet startled him awake some time later and he leapt out of his seat, fumbling for his phone. He needn't have bothered. Awash in the light from a nearby flashlight, Temperance Brennan was bent over, pushing the table away from the couch and setting their things to one side.

"I was able to procure a cot for you," she greeted him, blowing her bangs away from her face and settling her hands on her hips as she surveyed the space she'd made.

"Really?" he was caught off guard. "Um, thanks."

"I simply pointed out your medical condition," she informed him blithely as she and the employee she'd wrangled into her grand scheme began setting the thing up, "along with the fact that you're a decorated service veteran."

Of course she had, he thought bitterly, wondering if the staff now thought they had some decrepit war hero in their midst.

"There you go, Dr. Brennan," the kid who was helping her declared, stepping back. "Let us know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

The kid nodded, then turned to Booth and extended his hand, "And thank _you_, Sir."

"Me?" Booth wasn't sure what he was getting at, but shook hands anyway.

"Yeah," the kid nodded, "I don't understand what's really happening in the Middle East half the time but the guys who go? I've got nothing but respect for 'em. You keep us safe."

With that, the kid turned and walked away, leaving Booth no chance to respond even if he could have found the words to say.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Brennan couldn't see Booth, but she could tell he was lost in thought, still rooted to the place where the young man had left him. While she waited for him to respond, she busied herself with making the bed up with the blankets and pillows she'd been given, moving on to her own sleeping space on the couch when she'd finished.

"You didn't have to do this," he finally broke the silence.

She stood next to him, choosing her words carefully. "There's no shame in asking for things that are warranted, Booth. Your spine would be severely under-supported by the couch and I wanted to spare you the pain."

"So you told them I was a wounded vet?" she couldn't tell if he was pleased with her actions or not by his question.

"I told them you required the lumbar support a cot would offer," she corrected him gently, "and that a man who is as dedicated to his country as you are deserves due consideration."

For a moment she thought he might protest further, but instead he laid a gentle hand on her forearm and thanked her.

"I believe Angela would say I did so because I love you," the words came tumbling out before she could check them.

"Probably," he smiled, sitting down on the cot and testing it. "What would you say, Bones?"

The question surprised her, as did the lack of teasing in his voice. "I would say," she started tentatively, then grew more confident, "it's because I value your needs as much as my own. You're my partner, Booth, and my friend. I don't like it when you're in pain."

"Ditto," he replied, catching her hand in his and brushing his thumb over the slight scratch she'd gotten earlier. "And for the record: I like your answer better."

Without another word he gave her hand a squeeze and swung his legs off of the other side of the bed. She heard a few bumps, then felt him pushing the cot up flush against the couch, forcing her to pull her legs out of the way.

"There," he said, scrambling back up across the cot and onto the couch beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him, "now we can both be comfy."

She stretched her legs out in front of her as well and there was a moment where neither one of them was quite sure what to say next. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the white of the snow coming in through the windows made the room seem brighter. Still, the longer the power was out the cooler the room became.

"Here," Booth pulled one of the blankets out from under their feet after a particularly strong gust of wind against the nearby pane made the anthropologist shiver.

"I'm fine," she insisted, shaking her head.

"You know," she could hear the wide grin in his voice, "most of the time when people tell me that they're fine, they're lying."

"Really?" she rolled her eyes, snatching the blanket from him more to placate him than for herself.

"Or so I've heard."

A retort was on her lips when he moved away and began rummaging through his backpack.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he suddenly upended the contents onto the cot.

He didn't answer right away, but a few seconds later gave a triumphant little whoop and called out, "Catch!"

Her hands went up and out instinctively and were met with a wad of material coming at her faster than she'd anticipated. "Oof," she grunted. "What is this?"

"My Phillies' hoodie," he answered, shoveling the mess on the cot back into his backpack.

She could see that now and asked as she pulled it over her head, "Isn't baseball season over?"

"Well, yeah," he tossed the backpack to the side with her bags and grabbed for the trench coat he'd been wearing earlier, "but it's a World Series one."

"Ah," she nodded in understanding, "so it's used for gloating purposes over the off-season? Is that appropriate as they failed to advance to this year's contest?"

"Don't remind me," he gave a mock groan. "And yeah, doesn't matter how they did this year."

"Fascinating."

A low chuckle escaped his lips and she looked up at him quizzically, prompting him to respond, "I like it when you get all squinty on me." She raised an eyebrow and he hurriedly went on, "You know, like there's this inner anthropologist that can't help but see the world through squinty-colored glasses."

It was her turn to chuckle at his absurdity. "Exactly where on the spectrum does 'squinty' reside?" she teased, poking him with her index finger.

"Probing me again, Bones?" he teased right back with a reciprocal poke.

"Possibly," she said coyly. "Though I am having another 'squinty' thought."

"What's up?" his attention was fully focused on her.

"Scientifically speaking," she said deliberately, "layered clothing _does_ aid in maintaining body heat, however, we would do even better were we to cohabit a singular covering."

"Two bodies under a blanket are better than one?" he translated.

"Precisely," she nodded, handing him half of the blanket she'd been using.

They also pulled up the blanket that she'd put on the couch and gathered the two pillows they'd been given. When they were finally settled, Booth dropped a light kiss on her temple which made her shiver for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Com'ere, Bones," he beckoned, extending his arms for her to enter them.

Perhaps if the lights had been on, or if they hadn't been trapped in an airport with literally nowhere else to go, she would've hesitated. But right here, right now, she didn't, and scooted willingly into his embrace, enjoying the feeling of safety and contentment that came as his arms closed around her.

"Are you sniffing me?" he looked down at her, puzzled.

Inwardly she chided herself for being caught inhaling his scent and scrambled for an answer.

"You are!" apparently she took too long because he was onto her. Then instead of asking her why, he buried his own nose in her hair and breathed deeply, saying, "Mmm, yup. Smells like Bones."

"I do not smell like a skeleton," she kicked him playfully under the covers.

"Not little bones," he winced, shaking his head. "Big Bones. With a capital 'B.'"

"Ah," she nodded in understanding. "Well for your information you smell very Boothy."

"So you smell like you and I smell like me?" he asked rhetorically. "Right. Glad we got that out of the way early 'cause that could've been a deal-breaker if you'd smelled like, say, Hodgins when he's in Oscar the Grouch mode."

She laughed at that image, recalling fondly, "I used to tell my father that Oscar's living conditions were highly impractical and unsanitary."

"That's great," Booth laughed along with her.

"For something to be a deal-breaker, that would imply there's a deal in place to be broken," she said with a bit more thought.

"Then let's make a deal," he quipped, emboldened by the darkness.

The covers rustled as she shifted to face him, confessing, "I still struggle with concepts like 30, 40, and 50 years of monogamous love, but," she placed a finger on his lips to stay his response, "I would regret not trying. Not giving us a try, I mean."

"That's all I ever wanted, Bones," his voice was soft and thick with emotion.

"I'm still scared." Her words were barely audible in the stillness. "Scared that I'll push you away. Scared that-"

She hesitated.

"That what?"

Wide, innocent eyes, moistening at the corners met his as she blurted out softly, "That I'm holding you back from being with someone who could love you the way you want to be loved."

"What I want," he began slowly, tenderly, "is someone who knows how I like my meatloaf and what kind of Chinese to order without me telling her. Someone who keeps an indexed record of my medical history in her head and who can tell me if the docs screwed up on how they read the MRI's. Someone who'll go with me into the operating room and someone who won't leave my side until I wake up." He reached up to caress her jawline with his thumb, his eyes focused and intent, "Someone who knows how I feel when I have to take a life and who will be there to tell me I'm not my dad and I'm made of very, _very_ good stuff."

"You are," she affirmed through a sheen of tears.

"So are you, Bones," he pulled her closer, whispering into her ear, "and I'll hold you when you get scared."

They sat there in the dark, clinging to one another. The clinging eventually turned to kissing; the kissing to caressing; the caressing to heavy petting. They might've joined the ground-level chapter of the mile-high club had the power not been restored, though that didn't stop them from sleeping wrapped in each other's arms that night.

The next morning they awoke to a _very_ white Christmas that, while not safe enough to fly in, was cleared up enough by nightfall for her to secure them a hotel room. Booth gave himself to her and Brennan told him she loved her gift. They didn't leave until they had to.

Reluctantly, they parted ways; though only after she'd upgraded his ticket to first-class, and after several good-bye kisses had been exchanged. They talked on the phone for as long as they could while in the air and for another hour once they'd each landed.

Despite her initial hesitancy, Brennan found herself surrounded by family members eager to welcome her into their midst and exchange stories about the Ruth she'd never known. They then peppered her with questions about her work at the Jeffersonian, her career as an author, and how in the world she'd managed to persuade Margaret to stop quoting Benjamin Franklin incessantly.

A week into her stay, two Booth boys showed up, and they spent the rest of their vacation time together. Parker declared that it was about time the two adults stopped being stupid and he and Max teamed up to fill Brennan's numerous relations in on the saga. But if truth be told, the happy couple didn't care. Life together might not always be perfect, but as long as they had each other, it didn't need to be.

I suppose next you'd like to know how everything turned out once they got to DC: Did Angela squee so loud Hodgins swore he was deaf until the baby was born and squalled louder than her mother? Did Cam win the Jeffersonian pool on the couple and Sweets the Hoover one? Did Booth move into Brennan's place before February? Was there a wedding? A honeymoon? A Boothling-to-be-named-later?

Ah, my dear readers, don't you know by now?

"_Everything_ happens eventually."

FIN. And Merry Christmas!

Love,

**GUM :)**


End file.
